


The Missing Apples

by phoenixquest



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 12:37:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18011033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixquest/pseuds/phoenixquest
Summary: Hawke could swear he just bought apples; he just can't figure out where they've gone. When he overhears Orana and Anders talking about them, he realizes he has to do something about it.





	The Missing Apples

“Hey, Orana?” Garrett Hawke called from the kitchen, frowning as he looked at the shelf.

“Yes, Master?” Orana said quickly, hurrying into the room, eyes wide.

Hawke fought back a sigh; he’d keep being patient with the poor girl, but he did wish she’d stop being so frightened of him. It had been a little over a year since he brought her to work for him, but she was only slightly less jumpy around him than the first day he’d met her.

“Do you know what happened to the apples?” Hawke asked, pointing at the space on the shelf where he swore the apples had been just the day before. “I swear I just bought some, didn’t I?”

“O-oh,” Orana said, and Hawke noticed her ears reddened a little as she stammered. “I – I’m afraid I don’t know, Master. I – I haven’t seen them.”

“Hmm,” Hawke said, shrugging. “Alright. I think I’m losing my mind; I swear this keeps happening lately.”

“I’m sorry,” Orana said, looking down at the floor in the same way Fenris tended to, twisting Hawke’s heart in the same way.

“It’s fine,” Hawke promised, giving her a reassuring smile. “I’m not upset with you, Orana. Please, don’t worry.”

She hurried off after giving him a small bow, getting away as fast as possible. He shook his head, letting the sigh out this time. If anything, she seemed to have gotten worse lately; he only wished he could help.

*****

Hawke was about to walk into the dining room, ready to meet Anders for dinner, but stopped when he heard voices.

“We have to be more careful.” Orana’s voice, low and worried.

“Why? What happened?” Anders now. Concerned.

“He asked me about the apples today.”

“Damn.” A sigh. “Well, don’t worry, Orana. It’s all my fault; if he gets mad, tell him it’s me. I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

“I just want to help.” She sounded miserable. “He didn’t seem mad or anything. I don’t want to cause trouble.” She paused. “Is it helping?”

“It is,” Anders replied. “So many hungry patients…they’ve had so little. It makes all the difference in the world.” A pause. “Maybe I should just…tell him. He’s not exactly unreasonable. Maybe he won’t mind.”

“But it’s his things,” Orana protested. “We’re _stealing_ them!”

“Yeah,” Anders sighed. “Alright. We’ll be more careful. Sorry, Orana.”

Hawke waited a moment before going into the room; he didn’t want them to know he’d heard. He felt his heart sink, though. 

His food _was_ going missing. To feed the patients at the clinic. And neither Orana _nor_ Anders had felt like they could tell him. He felt like an ass. A giant, snobby, noble ass with his head in the clouds.

Well. He’d just have to make up for it.

*****

The next day, while Anders was at the clinic and he didn’t have to worry about being caught, Hawke headed back to the market. This time, he bought not just apples, but bags full of food – apples and bread and potatoes and meat and everything else he could find. He even threw in some fancy Orlesian cakes (though, he admitted, those were a treat for himself and Anders to share later…he couldn’t resist spoiling his lover now and then). 

“Master Hawke!” Orana cried when he walked into the house, the bags almost taking up more space than him. “Let me help you!”

“No, no, Orana, I’ve got it,” Hawke chuckled. “Could you do me a favor, though? Can you look in the cellar and find the biggest basket we have?”

“I – er – of course, serah,” she said, rather confused. “Just a moment.”

He set the bags down and started to sort them out while he waited, humming a little. Oh, he did hope Anders would like this…

“Here you are, Master,” Orana panted, and Hawke looked up to see her carrying a basket more than half her size into the kitchen.

“Oh, dammit, Orana, I’m sorry!” he cried, hurrying to help her with it. “I didn’t think we had any this large; I didn’t mean for you to struggle with that.”

“It’s fine,” she said hurriedly. “Is there anything else I can help with, Master?”

“Yes,” Hawke said, beaming at her. “You can help me organize all of this that will fit into this basket. And _please_ ,” he added, “you still don’t need to call me ‘Master’. Just Hawke will do.”

“Sorry, Mast – Hawke,” Orana corrected, blushing. “I’m…trying.”

She set about helping like he’d asked, sorting things out and working with him to arrange everything.

“I don’t think all this will fit,” she finally said, looking at a few of the bags they hadn’t yet worked on. “Why aren’t we just putting it on the shelves anyway?” she asked.

“Because it’s not staying here,” Hawke explained, unable to keep from grinning. He was quite excited about his plan. “I’m taking it to the clinic for Anders!”

Orana went pale, her mouth opening and closing a few times like she couldn’t get any words out.

“It’s okay!” Hawke hurried to reassure her. “I promise, Orana, I’m _not_ upset. Don’t be worried.” He blew out a breath, looking sheepish. “I heard you two talking last night. I…if anything, _I’m_ sorry,” he went on. “Neither of you…especially Anders…should’ve felt like you had to hide something like that from me. I want to help, too. And for what it’s worth,” he added, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder, “thank you for trying to help on my behalf when I was too dumb to think of it.”

“Oh,” Orana said, the color coming back into her face and her cheeks reddening in a blush instead. “I…you’re not upset?”

“No,” Hawke smiled. “I want to help, too.” The grin Orana gave him at those words made his heart jump.

“Then let’s get this done right.”

*****

“What – what in the world -?” Anders stared, openmouthed, at the man who had just entered the clinic, carrying a basket as big as himself and stuffed full of food.

Hawke set the basket down, then turned to the apostate, taking him in his arms.

“It’s for you,” Hawke said. “Well, for the clinic. I heard you and Orana talking,” he added, and Anders blushed and looked away.

“I’m sorry, Hawke,” Anders said. “Don’t be upset with her.”

“I’m not,” Hawke shook his head. “I’m upset with myself, if anything. Making you think I wouldn’t have helped, if you only asked. I must look like the worst noble asshole you’ve ever met.”

Anders snorted softly, shaking his head.

“Of course not,” he said. “I could never have asked you for this. And you didn’t have to do it anyway,” he added. “Especially not like _this_.” He gestured to the basket of food.

“No I didn’t,” Hawke agreed. “But I wanted to. Just because I have some fancy mansion in Hightown doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly forgotten life as a refugee. You do so much good, every damn day, Anders,” he continued passionately, squeezing the man’s arms. “I just want to add a little of my own.”

Anders smiled at him, leaning in to kiss him.

“Give this to any who need it,” Hawke said as they pulled apart. “There’ll be more as I can afford. Maker knows the Chantry won’t do anything.”

“Sadly, true,” Anders sighed, shaking his head. “Thank you, Hawke. On behalf of all my patients.”

“And don’t worry about keeping any,” Hawke added with a grin at the mage. “Your share is at the estate.”

“Hawke,” Anders said in fond exasperation.

“Hush,” Hawke laughed, kissing the mage again. “I even got two of those Orlesian cakes for us.”

“Well, I suppose I can make an exception for your Orlesian cakes,” Anders chuckled, squeezing Hawke in gratitude. “Thanks, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Because Hawke's kind of a doofus with a giant heart and Anders is so besotted he's afraid to say anything that might spoil things. And Orana's just a sweetheart. I love kudos/comments!


End file.
